


2305

by TFALokiwriter



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alien Planet, Aliens, Corruption, Crash Landing, Developing Friendships, Don't expect this to be finished in a year, Gen, I had to share this story, Might not be completed, Post-War, Redemption, Regret, Science Fiction, Set in the future, Slow Build, Slow To Update, Suffering, Survivor Guilt, picking up the pieces, prison starship, starships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-12-13 06:48:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11754336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TFALokiwriter/pseuds/TFALokiwriter
Summary: How does one go back from a low point in their life after being part of a terrible event? Slowly, and surely, get back on their feet. And reconcile with their part in it. There are times where life is entirely a trial after that horrific event. To see how one bends and screams to the whims of fate while fighting back to stay alive. Then find their place in the galaxy once more.  Life makes victims of everyone. The United Allied People know that best. The Alliance went through such an event. Future can be bright but also dark.2305 is the ship that helps a ex-allied officer start the process of healing and redemption even when he doesn't realize it. And maybe, just maybe, find himself a new family not of blood but by choice.





	1. Introduction

Humans are persistent, plain and simple. They are incredibly persistent and nothing can stop them when their mind is set on something. Nothing can deter them when it comes to entertainment, basic human rights, and to improving their lives. It's been vital to their survival on Earth. It's what helped them to get off their world and attempt to colonize a moon with water underneath it's surface. It's how they survived three world wars, and started all over again. It's a testament to them that they are determined to go with what's right, since. Not wanting to repeat the history that they had seen, heard, and read about in History books. Or experienced firsthand. The scars that came from hate were still felt from the lost generations, even centuries after the event. They are persistent enough to never let another event like that happen again. One which escalated to the point that it nearly spelled the end for humanity, for the extinction of their species. Life was too valuable.

They are determined to make a situation get better. Sometimes they will say, " _hold my beer_ ," and go on making history, literally. That's what happened when the first pair of humans went into space in a shuttle craft under a form of warp drive. They are often viewed as mad, but eccentric species in space. Everything went wrong when humans are on ships. Any ship that had a human unit attached are normally watched upon to be sure that the tendency wouldn't repeat (Or to be sure that it is just the person in general who is a danger magnet). Human Diplomats are seen as a prime example of persistency for peace. Human Captains are seen as their determination to save lives. Human Security Officers represent the need to protect. Human Chief Medical Officers are seen as the need to heal. Humans in  Science and Engineering are persistent on advancement. Humans are so determined that they discover something else when they are looking for an entirely different result. It's why they have holograms. Touch screens. Ship to ship contact on a view screen which was invented for viewing purposes. If one asked the Deltarians what they liked most about humanity, their answer would be, " _their determination, adaptability, and unity._ "  
  
It's a reason why for thousands of years that humans have evolved, thrived, and survived with anything thrown at them. It's a reason why they were able to establish the United Allied People. And when it came to someone, another species, posing nuclear war, well that was threatening. They didn't want to lose a partner to their large exploratory agency. Their philosophy is: _if one of them was attacked then everyone was attacked_. It's a part of a united nations that was kept. They had exploration starships, prison ships, merchant ships, minery ships, and other kind of ships in space that operated for different purposes. Some had long, wide pen like structures in the center with a triangle above that had excessive power being ejected through two holes. They made jetships that resembled bent guns that jetted out of the military installation in space.  The major installation is Headquarters,  the mothership, serial number 1000. HQ's design is a shot gun in space.  Meant to be intimidating to those who dare threat war.  
  
It carried up to   two million people at a given time with many windows seen glowing a shade of blue from the officers quarters.  Human life spans have greatly expanded in part by evolution with science and medicine having vastly improved. Humanity's iconic appearance of rounded ears was replaced by pointy ears with almost slanted eyebrows. Almost slanted, highly arched. Most of the population are five foot eight to six foot eight with no descripencies between any gender. They retained their skin and iconic set of eyes. Otherwise, nothing about them was different asides to the change. Some thought the pointy ears were gained because of inter breeding from aliens but as it turned out that was neither the case because humanity's ears have always been getting pointy and pointier by the passing generation. They did have sensitive hearing as a result. Expanding their psychic powers which in turn meant accessing more parts of their brain. It's why most become lying detectors to help law enforcement. The rounded ears was seen in species that had yet to achieve warp drive that looked human but are not. Humanity, itself, had become aliens.  
  
Just because a Utopia exists does not mean crime is non-existent.  
  
Crime has, and always will, exist forever.  
  
It's natural part of life to understand not everything can be eliminated.  
  
There are crimes that deserve the death penalty.  
  
Especially when it comes to inappropriately touching their children and ruining their trust in anyone for the rest of their lives. As was having sex with someone without their consent. One cannot come back from that after they commit the act. No jail time, just death, in a way that was defined humane and just by the UAP. The victims and their families are allowed to see their villain for the last time. There are other crimes that did not require the death penalty but moved to penal colonies, spending a  few months to a couple years in prison ships, or be sentenced to prison ships for a couple decades. Utopia's are flawed but they do have excellent building design, starships, flying cars, and guns. For the allied forces, there are iconic guns. They have hydro blasters with laser guides. Laser guides were an addition added to every gun in existence and a option to use that could  be activated by voice command. Ammo was in a container below the mouth of the gun. A net blaster with a net at the front of the gun that is in deactivated mode. Knock out gas in a small rounded container with red circular glass on both ends. Deactivated stasis cuffs that are like two armbands merged together with a pattern of red rounded glass that changed color when activated. Why is this relevant? Because it is.  
  
The stasis cuffs could also be turned into ankle cuffs.  Once activated, with the arm bands on a elbow, pieces of metal start multiplying and the magnetic attraction brings their hands together forcing them to clench their hands together. The layer of metal, scale like parts join together with rounded glowing parts at each side. For the ankles, the legs are forced to be side by side giving them a limited ability to run or jog so it focuses them to walk or more else just shuffle. Trying to break out in the stasis cuffs earns a shock that electrocutes and knocks them out.   But it doesn’t kill them. The machines do the repair work to the body. It does so by releasing cybernetic little machines in the blood stream that are carried to the brain where the damage done by the shock is put into order. It takes a few hours but it puts the prisoner back in working order. Commonly used in transporting criminals. But in deactivated mode, they are bands around the elbows and the ankles.   These were invented after warp drive with help from other species to help make it possible for cybernetics to advance.  It's a reason why many criminals do not attempt escape.  
  
Prison outfits are onesies but they are brown and black. The black part is the sleeves that begin below the shoulder in the shape of a V. With a black collar. Another black section begins at the knees at the standard 'v' shaped black cut. The security teams variation is gray and red, red for the 'v' cuts, and gray for the primary that came with a hat that had the UPS symbol featuring bars with a head in the background with the red 'v' shape on both sides. United Prison Ships are more like flying communities in space. They don't have names for their ships but refer to them by serial numbers while the crew develop their own affectionate nicknames for the ship. These become the unofficial names of the ship from ship-to-ship contact. Such as the UPS 2305, commonly called the   Rust Bucket.  Humans are persistent, plain and simple, including when it comes to keeping the justice system to deal with those who had broken the law. Sometimes being persistent backfired at them. With the will to survive. It's a reason why after wars, that the persistence becomes the will to live. The will to thrive. The will to adapt. The will to move on. Sometimes, it may not be the best in the long run. A war has just ended and consequences are to be dealt. And people finding it within themselves to seek redemption.  
  
And now?  
  
We begin our story.


	2. Chapter 1

"Not like I cared about it," Kadner said, flipping off the tv set on his desk.  
  
He lowered his hand.  
  
After millions of jetships, hundreds of cities being attacked, and the loss of eighty-three million people, the war had officially ended. Negiotated with the Ambassadors of several planets and the main parties involved that had started the war in the first place. He stood up from his chair then walked over toward the glass window to see the scenery of Seattle stalking back at him. The space needle is undergoing repairs from a attack that had been instigated a month earlier. Buildings are in the process of being rebuilt. The land based HQ of the UAP is still standing strong. He remembered space being full of hope and optimism. He remembered being taken surprise when the war had started over one hundred thirty-three years ago. He sighed, seeing his breath stain the glass. He lost his friends, his spouses, his old crew, all to this stupid war.  He had been fortunate to retire three weeks ago because of the war and not be one of causalities. It is one that couldn't be won. No one won World War 2 and 3 on Earth.  
  
Kadner should feel relieved, but he is not.  
  
All he felt is sick.  
  
A series of beeps came from the small rounded device set alongside the computer.  
  
"Admiral Kadner, you have a visitor," his secretary said.  
  
"I am not in the mood to talk," Kadner said.  
  
Kadner had lost his husbands to the war.  
  
Kadner remembered a hundred years ago allowing his other husband to go and retrieve officers who were still alive planet side in a medical shuttle.  A large one that is wide and big  than the cramped jet ships. The medical shuttle made it to the planet but never made it back in one piece to the 666.  He should have died long ago after that but he didn't. He lost so many people under his command. And the people who had managed to survive the war and gain captaincy only to die just weeks into their command. He felt like promoting them was a death sentence to those he cared about. They knew it but looked forward to serving for what was right. He rubbed the bridge of his nose hearing the doors smoothly open behind him. Kadner wasn't happy. It should never have happened. The entire war. He had a  shaky breath reminding itself that it was over. He had anger over it. He had a sigh lowering his hand. It had started simply over a planet's nuclear war problem coming up.  
  
There was a rule shortly imposed afterwards that not any planet in the alliance should carry nuclear power. Then came resistance about imposing the rule. Thirty planets backed out of the alliance over it. And then came the assistance giving the planet nukes. Three of the ships sending the nukes was destroyed. And that's where the war came in. The planet problem was resolved by a Deltarian Ambassador and a Organan Ambassador. The UAP was whole again but not the people killed. There are people in admirality that were not whole regardless of getting regrown body parts for the ones lost in service. It's the void in the heart. The one in the mind as well. Psychic healers are assigned to every ship in case of the worst happened, losing a romantic partner, and having to repair their broken bond. Kadner turned away from the window to see a familiar figure. He dropped his glass to the floor. The broken bond didn't leap to life at the sight of the man which was confusing  for Kadner. It should be ali---Larry McCord had ended their marriage. Humans didn't have wedding rings anymore so breaking a bond was a lot like taking off a wedding ring.  The man's light green eyes bore back at Kadner's hazel ones. He could see a scar along the man's jawline. His once brown hair graying at the sides with bags under his eyes. McCord looked ten years older from the last time that Kadner had seen him.  
  
"My Saw, my dear Saw," Kadner said, finally feeling relieved and happy again. "you're back."  
  
"I am turning myself in, Jack," McCord said. "Best Shawn hear it from you."  
  
Kadner leaned forward, hands on the table, as he observed the man.    
  
"Where have you been?" Kadner asked. "What happened to you?" he saw the light no longer in the man's eyes that had only a sad, dull quality in them.  
  
"In service," McCord replied. "Of the Kazels."  
  
Kadner froze.  
  
"You were with them?" Kadner asked, sounding hurt. "why didn't---"  
  
"I killed my patients, I gave them a mercy killing before, before, before they came along," McCord said. "I was surrounded. My heart padd was broken from the crash landing," Kadner noticed the man's calm, collected composure. As though the man had practiced.  "And I thought you should know for yourself that you are talking to a war criminal before learning it on air."  
  
Kadner felt heartbroken as he pressed a button underneath.  
  
"Did. . . Did Shawn know you were defecting?" Kadner asked.  
  
"Me?  Defecting?" McCord said. "You must be talking about the wrong person," he looked over to see a vase on the man's desk then looked up toward Kadner. "Is that Shawn?" he looked at the man, confused, yet startled. "Is it?"  
  
"He died seventy years ago," Kadner said.  
  
"Oh," McCord said. "Die--die or did he just defect on you?"  
  
"I had to kill him," Kadner said. McCord sunk into his seat.  
  
"Why did he defect?" McCord asked. "Is there something about the war that I don't know about?"  
  
"Nothing you should know," Kadner said. "wish things were different. . . But I'll see what I can to send you to the best prisonship," he looked over toward his heart padd laid onto the table then back toward the older man, "trust me, you will absolutely love it."  
  
"You haven't answered me," McCord said. "what did Shawn do?" he stood up now.  
  
"He allied himself with the Kazels," Kadner said. "tried to send us there."  
  
"Jack Lee Kadner, you killed an innocent man trying to establish a rescue mission!" McCord said. "he was the source that a doctor told me was going to come for us!" he looked at the man in disgust. "Couldn't you have just asked instead of shooting and asking questions later?"  
  
"I'm skeptical of that,"  Kadner said. "they pulled many tricks. And it'll be a long time before they  can be in Allied ships as officers," a look of despair appeared on the doctor's face. "I will make sure of that."  
  
"You're compromised," McCord said. "you're not thinking straight."  
  
"Everyone will be in agreement after all the shit they pulled," Kadner looked over the man's shoulder. "Officers, this is a traitor to the alliance. Prepare the procedures  for criminal transport," the two bands are placed onto the man's elbows clamping into his skin. The series of metal pattenered out of the device with rounded glass like fixtures set apart on both sides. The metal attraction to the binding metal made him clutch his hands into each other. The pull grew strong between the metal pieces that went over his forearm, his wrist, and finally his hands.  "Goodbye, Doctor McCord."  
  
"You're not Captain Jack Kadner," McCord said. "you're not the man I knew!"  
  
"Then who am I?" Kadner asked.  
  
"You're a traitor to the philosophy of this alliance: we forgive, not punish, and if we punish then we are no good than them," McCord said, then he is turned away from the admiral's desk. "You're a stranger to me!" he is guided away toward the doors. "I don't know  you!"  the doors closed behind the three men.  
  
"I don't know you, either," Kadner said, as a rounded machine cleaned his mess.  
  
And he is completely alone.

* * *

**. . . . Saturday, May 2nd, Stardate 11,017 . . .**  
  
**. . . 6:48 Delta Night. . . .**  
  
Judge Harriet Briner expected a guest tonight. A guest that she had known for little over two hundred years. She is dressed for the occasion. The door opened before her to show a somewhat short, graying curly haired man somewhere in his mid fifties with hazel eyes staring back at her in his admiral uniform. It is primary white with the 'v' shaped cuts being dark blue. He is in a long, dark coat that reached down to his knees and had a sharp, tall neck collar. The coat covered his figure when it was buttoned up. Kadner had his hat tucked underneath his  forearm with one hand  locked behind his back. He wore a smile that couldn't be determined if it  is malicious or benevolent.  
  
"Briner!" Kadner said, greeting the woman with a genunine smile. "Good to see you again."  
  
"You saw me before this trial week started," Briner said. "you were pretty unhappy regarding your grandson's incarceration."  
  
"Grandsons can always be replaced by another," Kadner said, with a hand wave. "more where he came from." Briner grew a concerned.  
  
"Are you all right, Admiral?" Briner  asked, furrowing her eyebrows.  
  
"I am fine," Kadner said. "there are more fish in the sea as they say."  
  
Briner stepped aside allowing the man in. "If you say so."  
  
Briner is disturbed from what she was hearing coming from the Admiral's direction, It is out of his character to talk about grandchildren that way. Given the miracle that his son had stayed out of Alliance affairs and instead became a scientist,  it raised a red flag for the judge on her radar.  Kadner's son, Dylan Kadner, is not a easy man to find. Some thought he had died during the war. And Kadner had grieved for that loss as well accordingly. She  watched the man put his coat up onto the coat hanger along with his hat. Humans are capable of living past one hundred like elves.  But most did not deflect people from paying attention to their face face like Kadner did, usually, the way he carried himself and acted distracted people from observing how aged he looked. He could not do that around Briner.  
  
"Say, where is your champagne?" Kadner said  
  
"It's on the table in the dining room," Briner said. "you don't look so well."  
  
"I am fine," Kadner said  
  
"Are you depressed?" Briner asked. "I am all ears."  
  
"I am fine!" Kadner repeated,  snapping back at the taller woman.  There is silence between the two. "I am sorry? I . . ." he shook his head. "am not in the mood to talk about it."  
  
Briner nodded in understanding.  
  
"If that is what you want," Briner said, directing him toward the dining room.  
  
The long, extended dining table had some appetizing food with folded napkins that had silverware placed onto them. There are several chairs lined about the table pulled into the table. Kadner sat down in the chair alongside the end of it. The smell radiating from the food was delicious. There are curtains draped along the windows being a shade of red. Kadner noticed how homely it felt as he noticed there is a cackling fire place across from the table with fresh firewood. It is old styled, that,  Kadner had been able to understand in the antique house.  It was a antique  as it was a house typically found in the early 2000's. Typical homes are structured different from the generic, primitive house design.  There were so few 21st century houses left on Earth that had survived the nuclear war.  
  
Kadner half wondered to himself what planet Briner is getting the wood from. And if she had either thought about giving the house a upgrade so no more wood would have to be replaced. Trees are a very valuable form of life in the Alliance. They provided life substance to thrive on planets.  There were several species of trees that are heavily protected because they gave life back.  Through the roots, the treebarks, and the leaves. It's a crime to chop a tree down. The punishment was six months on a penal colony then at the end of the sentencing to plant a sapling in the place of the old roots were ripped out.  Or it may not be actual wood burning in the pit. He saw a wooden, brown ceiling fan attached to the middle of the room in a pair keeping the building cool. Kadner saw the juicy, light brown chicken torso laid on a large plate steaming back at him. Kadner directed himself toward the younger woman raising an eyebrow back.  
  
"Now, you didn't have this made just for a chat?" Kadner said. "I don't need your pampering."  
  
"It's dinner time, Kadner," Briner said. "anyone who comes over must eat at the designated time I set for myself having dinner," the admirals eyes drifted toward the appetizing food then back toward the woman roughly his age. She looked graceful and gorgeous in that raven black outfit consisting of a shirt and a long dress that ended above the knees. The dress was tight along her figure. She almost floated her way toward the chair alongside the older man. "besides, it would be torture to eat while someone else isn't."  
  
"You make a good point, Harriet," Kadner said.  
  
"We nearly got married over me making good points," Briner said. "I am engineered to make a good point."  
  
"You weren't, but your soul is that way," Kadner said, preparing his plate.  
  
"Uh huh," Briner said. "what brings you here today?" Briner raised an eyebrow back up at the admiral. "Is this you taking another shot at reducing the years your grandson has?" Kadner gave a look insult back at the woman. "I am sorry, that's the only reason I can see you here."  
  
Kadner cut the piece of chicken placing it onto his plate.  
  
"Well. . ." Kadner said, taking another slice of the soft, juicy chicken. He dripped gravy over the chicken. "I am just here to hear how you have been this week," the woman prepared her plate by by first adding potato and gravy. "if you had a good week anyway."  
  
"I did," Briner said.  
  
"And your sentencings must be terrible," Kadner said, as a light bulb went off inside the woman's head. "must be lighter than a lifetime."  
  
"Jackie, Jackie," Briner said, adding sliced chicken to her plate. Then she gently stabbed her fork into ten small, rounded bits that looked like curled lettuce plants that hadn't sprouted yet.  Then added well cooked rice with vegetables to her plate. "I didn't take you for someone to ask about sentencing. You know I can't talk about it."  
  
"You can't," Kadner agreed. "I am just . . ." he paused, bringing the bottle of champaigne over that was set between a covered plate. "suggesting." he poured a glass for the woman.  
  
"Suggesting or requesting?" Briner asked, raising an eyebrow.  
  
"Suggesting," Kadner said, pouring a glass for himself. "fifteen men and women. God, that can't be easy."  
  
"To decide where they go, well, that's easy," Briner said, lowering her eyebrow. "that's what the job does."  
  
Kadner raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Where you thinking our first traitor should go?" Kadner asked, as the woman took a bite out of her cut chicken piece. Briner cleared her throat looking at the admiral's direction.  
  
"The Alcatraz penal colony," Briner said.  
  
"That colony is a easy life," Kadner said, unpleased.  
  
"And you don't want that for your ex," Briner said.  
  
"That's minimum labor," Kadner took a sip. "I want him to suffer."  
   
"There is a prison ship that lends its criminals out for hard labor,"   Briner said.  
  
"Hard labor," Kadner said.  
  
"If I send him there, then they will be drilling at me why would I do that," Briner said. "I don't need to be investigated."  
  
"Because you can," Kadner said. "and I will take care of that."  
  
"I am a fair judge, not a corrupt one," Briner said.  
  
"Just a favor," Kadner said.  
  
"Corruption starts with favors," Briner said.  
  
"We are both corrupt," Kadner said, holding his cup up. "if you say I asked you then I'll say I had suggested. Or that it was locker room talk," he waved his free hand. "I hope that you pick the right sentencing," he smiled back at her then took a sip from his glass. "Justice is blind."  
  
"It is," Briner said.  
  
"How's your bondmate?" Kadner asked. There was silence.  
  
"He is dead," Briner said. Kadner's face fell as his grip around the glass slackened and he leaned himself against the chair. "Charles died in the war two weeks ago."  
  
"I grieve for your loss,"  Kadner said. "no one should lose their bondmate." The woman nodded.  
  
"How did you do it?" Briner asked. "Get up every morning knowing he's dead?"  
  
"One day at a time," Kadner said, cutting his pieces of chicken. "I am used to the pain."  
  
"I hope it goes easy on me," Briner said. "I never had . ." she had a shaky sigh. "I never thought we would be on different sides afterwards," Kadner  reached a hand out toward the woman's hand  in the brief link that was established to send comfort through with a tinge of understanding. She looked up toward the man. "how would you recommend I start moving on?"  
  
"Cry," Kadner said. "cry a lot. .  . And about your old friends, how are they?" he looked up from his plate trying to lighten the mood. "Did they make it?" A sad expression grew on the judges face.  And Kadner regretting asking.  
  
"Due to the peace returning. . ." Briner started another topic. "Is the UAP 666 going to be taken out of storage to return at what she does best?"  
  
"I hope so," Kadner said. "we are going to pick the best crew for her. To finish what we started."  
  
"You mean, cadets," Briner said.  
  
"Well, we can't pick people who served in the war to have ships of their own," Kadner said. "their mindset is still bent on the war. No one who served in the war can't actively be an officer again," the woman looked at him oddly. "we have got other jobs that they can do," he took a bite out of his chicken.  
  
"Isn't that unfair?" Briner asked.  
  
"It's fair," Kadner said. "we don't need a mad captain stuck in the past starting the war again."  
  
Briner nodded.  
  
"But counseling would help them and support groups," Briner said. "You shouldn't ban the most experienced officers from exploring another galaxy."  
  
"Who says we're exploring galaxies?" Kadner asked. "I believe we explored them all."  
  
"There are trillions of them," Briner said. "you and your crew explored over a thousand."  
  
"We're studying another chain of evolution," Kadner said, as the woman took another bite of her chicken. "we have some scientists saying that we may reach omniscient in a couple years due to unlocking more parts of our brain," the woman raised her eyebrow back at the man. "I am voting that the 666 be re-purposed for science. It's too old. It's outdated with the technology we have now."  
  
"I don't think it's too old," Briner said, after swallowing.  
  
"It is old," Kadner said. "it's about time I recognized that the old girl and I have ran out our usefulness." Briner nodded, not at all surprised by what was coming from him.  
  
"About time you retired," Briner said.  
  
"I hope that after I retire. . . things go the way I want;," Kadner said, gazing toward the window hopefully that showed the night sky. "the 666 being useful for one last time. . . to be used for scientific purposes. . ." he looked back toward the woman. "you know scientists use old ships all the time?" Briner nodded. She had cases regarding illegally acquiring metal to repair the scientists ship.  "It's about time they got an upgrade. Shawn would have wanted that. It can house over a million people. A entire city. And McCoy get what he deserves."  
  
"Hopefully, we get what we want," Briner said.  
  
Kadner had a slight nod as his fingers wrapped around the glass.  
  
"Hopefully," Kadner said, then held his glass up.  "to the future."  
  
"To the future," Briner said, clinking her drink with the man's glass.

* * *

**.  . .  Monday, 8:46 Delta Morning.  .**  
  
**. . May 4th, Stardate 11,017. . . Sentencing. . .**  
  
McCord was behind the wall  blocking him from seeing anyone else in the trial room. It had been this way for five days. There are other humans with him in the barrier. Some of whom he recognized. The war had been ugly one that showed the worst of everyone else. The issue regarding the nukes had been complex as everyone else had something to gain and something to lose surprisingly from getting them or not getting them. McCord didn't feel sorry for himself. He felt sorry for them. He had heard testimony from the people who had served with these people before the war had yanked them into sides. The ones who had not died.  The black wall prevented anyone else from seeing who was outside from behind the wall.  
  
"Doctor McCord," McCord raised his head up. "Given your background history as a doctor and a defector, I have no choice but to sentence you to life in the united prison ship 2305," Briner informed the doctor from behind the wall. "Miss Macalling, you are sentenced to a thirty-three year life sentence on the UPS 2503. Miss Hallister, you are sentence to life in prison in UPS 2304. Mr Halt, you are sentenced to the penal colony the Nightengale on Delta IV. Mr Teebas, you are sentenced to two lifetimes in Alcatraz penal colony on planet Nickel.  . ."  
  
McCord lowered his head listening to the sentences being handed out by the judge. The way he saw it, it would be a painful, long drawn out existence in a time that wasn't friendly for him. And it is a painful reality. He briefly closed his eyes accepting what his final days would be. He had been a excellent doctor that earned him the nickname 'Saw' derived from Sawbones. He opened his eyes as the voice to the judge had ceased. The sounds of people getting up are clear as day. He rubbed his wrist  feeling down. He looked over to see the weeping people alongside him. Only five of them had been doctors. The rest? Pilots. Security Officers. People who found themselves in the wrong side of the war.  There are fifteen people in this panel.  
  
"Doctor McCord?" came the dark man beside him.  
  
"Yes,  Teebas?" McCord asked.  
  
"I am sorry for you," Teebas said. McCord nodded.  
   
"I feel more sorry for myself for not dying in that crash," McCord said  
  
"Find some peace," Teebas said.  
  
"Why  should I?" McCord asked.  
  
"This is the beginning of the end for you," Teebas said. "you should go with your eyes open."  
  
McCord turned his head away briefly closing his eyes.  
  
"I don't think I can find peace with myself for what I have done," McCord said.  
  
"It helps moving on," Teebas said, earning a head turn from the doctor.  Teebas had graying, brown hair with bags under his eyes. In ordinary alien terms, the man looked as though he were in his fifties. In earthly aging definition, Teebas appeared to be somewhere in his late two hundreds.  
  
"How are you moving on?" McCord asked.  
  
"I am going with my eyes open," Teebas said. "I will leave this life the way mother nature wishes. Without help."  
  
"That's a loud way to go," McCord said, earning a softened facial expression from Teebas.  
  
"No," Teebas said. "quietly as I came here."  
  
McCord nodded.  
  
"Poetic," McCord said.  
  
"Out," came the security guard in a gray and red uniform standing alongside the exit to the building. He saw the prison badge that had the circle in the background of the bar shapes.  
  
McCord was the first to stand up while clutching both hands as the cuffs activated. The ankle cuffs are in deactivation mode to allow for easy transport. McCord was the first to stand up onto his feet. They came outside flanked by security officials to ensure their protection. He saw unfamiliar faces around him holding wide, larger heart padds that are backwards. He saw the big, circular dark screens from the heart padds. The uniforms are still the same as they had been decades ago. Security officers in the alliance had blue sleeves, medical professionals had lighter blue sleeves, captains had green sleeves, science officers had a shade of lighter blue sleeves, and engineers had hazel sleeves. There are flashes from the heart padds as the line of security officers protected them from the questions.  The doctor wore a sad, depressed expression. He is not a traitor but a war criminal. If he had been treated such then he would be dead in a month.  
  
McCord had a heavy heart lingering behind his chest.  
  
He didn't care about anything that went on around him.  
  
He did not really pay attention to a word that was being said.  
  
 It is almost as though he is on autopilot.  
  
There are so many ways that his life went wrong in the time of the war.  
  
The doctor is ashamed of what he had done in the war. All for the sake of survival. The scar that had haunted him for the last seventy years, being loud and bolt that it didn't fade, is finally gone. It is not along his jawline.  Per a medical examination. The skin tissue had been repaired on the other parts of his body that hadn't been treated right. He caught sight of a Kazele who had long pointed ears,  pink pig skin, elevated head ridges on the bald head with a visor that seemed to be attached to their skull with scars that hadn't been healed. McCord recognized the Kazel as his handeler who wore no expression at all.  That is O'Copoid, with his name pronounced as o-cou-ff-oid. McCord remembered that because O'Copoid drilled that into his head repeatedly with punishment for not pronouncing it right. The Kazels, apparently, hated their names pronounced wrong and it got on their nerves. War was just a excuse to lash their anger out.  
  
 A flare of anger arose at the sight of the person who ruined his life.  
  
Someone who had prevented him from finishing what he had started after ending the lives of his patients.    
  
Why did O'Copoid stop him?  
  
Why didn't O'Copoid just finish  him instead of recruiting him?  
  
_I hate you, monster!_ McCord mouthed back adding a expletive.  
  
O'Copoid vanished from his line of sight.  
  
Somewhere down the line, McCord went from hostage to prisoner to willing participant. He is a former innocent man  who didn't have innocence left. Hope had kept him going that the war would end one day. That he would see the two men he married alive and well, a wishful thought, having each other while he wouldn't have them. He should have died in that crash and he should have allowed O'Copoid to die on his watch. But he is a doctor. Doctors did what was best for their patients. They healed others. They did not let their opinions guide them. They are non-biased. And he felt like a butcher for what he had done to the Alliance Officers. It just was not fair that he had to do that. Died too young. He saw their faces when he closed his eyes. Their names with them in text above their heads.  He is guilty and he should be killed accordingly not imprisoned.  He felt like walking trash. But  dying in prison of natural causes?  McCord could quietly go to hell with that.  
  
The group made their way to the shuttle section. There are hovering cars parked along the sidewalk acting as shields blocking the journalists from following them in. The shuttle craft resembled a large, sleek van without wheels that has a curve to the top of it that swept upwards in a 'v' shape. The shuttle van appeared at first glance more of a van-meets-a-bus hybrid flying above the pavement with a small staircase leading up to it. There is a Alliance ad seen on the screen showing officers in uniform along with the tagline, "we need young people like you!" Where would the young people come from? Given the massive loss of life due to the war. How would anyone get used to a era without war when they grew up with it as a constant? The shuttle craft is boarded by the convicted criminals and sat down in the seats that they had been arranged to sit in. McCord's stasis cuffs detracted returning into their elbow band appearance. McCord rubbed his wrist looking over to see the passenger alongside him is a younger black male with slanted eyebrows, rounded like protusions from the left side of his face trailing down from his eyebrows to his eyes then to the side of his cheek, and had rounded ears. The Coran male appeared to be Asian facial feature wise. McCord noticed the man's hand is covered in intricate, colorful tattoos.  
  
The weight on McCoy's shoulders is still there but the distraction brought him out of his self pity. He noticed the pair of bright blue eyes that looked like a flow of energy resting inside eyes rather than a actual color. If he had to determine, the man is somewhere in his mid sixties. Alongside blue eyed sat a white mal---McCord froze, recognizing the man as Commander Albert Ripley. In cuffs. A legendary security officer who saved the life of the Alliance  Madam President not once but twice. His heart almost leaped out at the sight of the familiar man with the long chin, pale skin, and brown disappointed eyes. Looked like the man hadn't shaved in two days compared to  McCoy who didn't miss a beat when it came to shaving. McCord looked over toward the dark man.  
  
"Going to the same ship?" McCord asked.  
  
"Esparaz Penal Colony," Blue eyed said.  
  
"Ah. . . for a Coran, I thought you wouldn't be dragged into the war," McCord said. "peace keeping religious people."  
  
"In order to keep peace, violence is necessary," Blue eyed said. He looked over towered the pointy eared man. "you are reading my mind. . . aren't you?"  
  
"I have it turned off, mind you," McCord said.  
  
"Nothing like the lying detectors?" Blue eyed asked.  
  
"I am a doctor," is all McCord replied. _Was a doctor._  
  
"Ah," Blue eyed said, with a understanding nod.  "What are you sentenced to?"  
  
"United Prison Ship 2305," McCord said,  
  
Blue eyed stared at him in disbelief.  
  
"You mean that you are assigned to that old rust bucket?" Blue eyed said. "I mean, it hasn't been replaced in over. . ." he paused, giving an odd look, thinking back at how long the war had been raging. "close to sixty-three years."  
  
"I am," McCord said.  
  
"That's the ship where prisoners do hard labor," Blue eyed said.  
  
"I figured that much," McCord said.  
  
"You work like slaves under the baking sun. . ." Blue eye added. "or just flat out die if you are in a system that has two suns.  Or lack of water if they don't give you enough to keep you going in your canteen."  
  
"I won't like it but I will deserve it," McCord said.  
  
"You're happy about that?" Blue eyed asked.  
  
"If that's how this nightmare ends, yes," McCord replied. "how long are you at the colony for?"  
  
"Three years, light labor," Blue eyed said.  
  
"That is piece of cake," McCord said, then turn his head away from the darker man and slowly start to close his eyes. "I can tell it will be heaven for you."  
  
McCord noticed Teebas set across from him looking out through the window calm and relaxed. Unlike everyone in the shuttle who is depressed to the end of outer end of the milky way galaxy. Someday, he is going to find the peace that Teebas has found and keep it with him. McCord once had that peace with himself. Once, another life, another time, another place. McCord's eyes slowly started to close. He fell into the welcoming tendrils of darkness, willingly.


	3. Chapter 2

McCord's eyes opened feeling a cramp on the side of his neck. He noticed that his head had been directed toward the window to see a familiar starship. 2305, one that McCoy saw long ago in his golden days at a nearby starbase. The United Prison Ship is a massive starship making the shuttle craft be semi larger than normal flying insect to it. Easily worth three baseball stadiums combined easily housing 300,000 people. He saw the 'v' design on both sides of the anchor below the circular shaped center. There is a three way tube connects to the long pen structure in center right back into the big doughnut structure. The number designation of the ship is seen on both sides of the blades in black font with lights showering on them. At the bottom of the arrow right where it is rounded rests a glass oval shape that clearly is where a hub of sorts rests. Above that is the prison system symbol. The bars without the noticable head in the background. He can see bright  blue lights in squares from the rounded, flat surface. There is a pattern of dark windows. A triangle poke from above expelling excessive power waste into space in jets of blue blazes.

His heart sank.  
  
It felt like McCord had sunk.  
  
Deep into the belly of darkness.  
  
Except, he really hadn't drowned.  
  
McCord sadly sighed, turning in the direction of the center of the row to see there were several empty seats except for five women who were humans. He recognized some of them from the traitor seating. Two of them wore hijabs that covered their hair and ears. They light brown hijabs that matched their prison outfits. The shuttle craft went under the ring to the prison ship heading toward a tube with a shuttle bay entrance hole glowing a light shade of blue. The shuttle craft entered into the gigantic starship into the massive bay that could had larger evacuation ships propped here and there about the scenery. McCord pressed the center to the buckle. The buckle slid off the man's torso as his head met the back of the chair painfully. He winced in pain.  The ache coming from his neck. The shuttle craft gently landed to the ground with a thud.  He needed to get that fixed. So his head is stuck to the side of his shoulder. The ever so slight move earned a sharp, high pitched pain.  It is like a sound but then it wasn't to the doctor.  
  
"Up, Doctor McCord," Understone said, standing by the seat.  
  
McCord turned himself toward the dark woman.  She had curly, black hair that almost looked like a mane if the hair had grown underneath her chin to a complete circular shape. She wore bright colorful mascara that made her face stand out including the long chin with a series of thin, spinal shaped ridges along the sides of her cheeks and gills along her neck that were exposed. She had a muscular build compared to the thin, almost wimpy human. Understone is a Behostan from the planet Behosta. She had a automatic translator device inside the attachable gray prison badge above her chest.  
  
"This is not the first impression I rather make," McCord apologized. "my neck. Sorry, I got a pain in my neck."  
  
"Up," Understone said, gesturing her black index finger at the man.  
  
"I'll try," McCord said, grasping onto the left arm rest. He used the top of chair in front of him to get on his feet.  Understone stepped aside for the man allowing him to get out of the row of seats.  "thank you."  
  
"Now, first off to Sick Bay," Understone said, as the cuffs were reactivated.    
  
McCord is guided off the shuttle with Understone and her co-worker Kerwell, a white Behostan. Behostan's were aggressively shark like in the water when it came to circling their prey or their charge for that matter. They are carnivores. One of many intelligent species in the Alliance. The smell of blood can get their attention. And their razor sharp teeth is useful for a number of situations like cutting rope, opening a bag the hard way, or biting off a loose part of a fingernail. Behostan's were not in the least interested in war which is why there was a surplus of security officers in the prison system more than there should be. He joined the group of women lined outside the shuttle craft. A young woman came into the room flanked by her two trusted right hand men, which, surprisingly, were Behostan's.  
  
"I am Captain Okallis," Okallis gestured over toward the shorter man to her right. "this is my first officer Masters, chief of security," she gestured toward the man  with light blue sleeves standing to her left. "and my medical officer, O'Ricks. .  ." she observed the group of women and one man. "Hmm, not bad," Okallis directed herself toward Understone. "Six criminals. Think you can handle them to their cells, ensigns?"  
  
"Understood, Captain," Understone said, with a nod.  
  
Okallis looked in the direction of the human then toward the women.  
  
"You will be under my command, as your captain," Okallis said. "you will not have parole hearings due to the severity of your crimes in any time in the future," she paced back and forth with her hands locked behind her back. "You will not threaten any of the security officers or my crew," she glanced at the shorter woman in a hijab then turned her attention toward the middle woman. "You can harm each other as much as you like," McCord shuddered. "but if one nearly kills the other then I have no choice but to put you into isolation tower for one day without socialization. We have none currently in the tower and I don't intend to have anyone in the tower."  
  
"Ma'am," Ardith said, being the second woman in hijab.  "what is the maximum time limit someone can be in the tower?"  
  
Okallis stopped at the direction of the light brown woman.  
  
"A week," Okallis said. "but we don't do that here, now do we?" she glanced toward her men.  
  
"We do not," O'Ricks said.  
  
"Not a doubt about it," Masters said.  
  
Okallis turned her attention toward the five criminals growing a smile on her face. A smile that made Ardith feel uncomfortable. As did Lewine, Honna, Eran, and Elliz. The next reply from the woman made the small group be uneasy, "We give people hell by hard labor." It almost felt like they were in a late 20th century prison movie where criminals were not treated right. McCord had a shaky sigh. Okallis turned in the direction of Understone, "Please take the doctor to Med Bay for his problem. His first day needs to be less miserable as possible." Because tomorrow it probably was not going to be a comfortable as was the remainder of his days. And it is a fact that no one liked being in prison ships. The doors to the shuttle bay opened to reveal ten people who are well aged and looked somewhere in their late fifties with gray in their hair laughing. These are the people who finished their sentences. McCord didn't recognize either of them but they are apparently overjoyed as they boarded the shuttle.  
  
"Audios, Captain!" the earthly foreign like Coran said, with a wave holding a bottle of illegal booze in one hand. It is labeled as a legal drink but still McCord recognized the purple contents with juice bits floating inside the transparent glass. The Coran ducked back into the shuttle craft with the other released civilians.  
  
"Get along with Mr O'Ricks," Okallis said. "he is your last doctor until your last breath."  
  
"Captain," O'Ricks said, grabbing  on her shoulder. They turned away from the group.  
  
"They get the point," Okallis whispered.  
  
"I am getting a promotion and reassignment to the 666 as CMO," O'Ricks reminded her.  
  
"Remember, not all prisoners last their first week," Okallis said.  
  
"That is unnacceptable, Captain," Masters agreed in a hushed voice. "I do not believe Allah would  approve of his creations to be given with a distinct impression that it is justified to escape from their prison sentence."  
  
"You shouldn't give them bright ideas," O'Ricks said.  
  
"And is it time for you to be given a reassignment, Captain?"  Masters asked. "I have read that people who've been cooped up in command for so long start to lose their respect and edge toward others."  
  
"Boys, boys," Okallis said. "you know me. I don't like exploring. I like this command."  
  
"Captain," Masters said.  
  
"Okay, I do need a break," Okallis said. "that was a slip up."  
  
"You better," O'Ricks said. "I hate for a good captain to be reported for being inappropriate."  
  
The  three turned back in the direction of  the group.    
  
"My apologies," Okallis said. "I meant until the end of  tomorrow. You will have a new medical professional," she turned toward Masters. "we have to prepare for an execution in a few hours," she turned her head toward the newcomers. "don't pose any trouble. Or you will be sent to the tower."  
  
Our scene panned to the dark hall. McCord is being escorted by Understone and Kerwell. The hallway is dark with red glowing lights providing guidance to where he was going. McCord remembered the hallways on the 666 being light and colorful not dark, dull, and light dimmed right out of a horror science fiction movie. O'Ricks is looking at his heartpadd reading what he needed to use for the older man's neck. He is passed by security officers whose sleeves almost blended into the lighting fixture. The other women had been escorted by other security officers. McCord half wondered to himself the ratio of criminals to the security officers.  How many figures took themselves as Wardens for their respective sections. He had heard stories of wardens coming in and personally delivering an execution instead of it being fair and humane. Those wardens did not represent The Alliance but maybe they do now. War scarred men and women likely with PTSD.  There are dark blue rails built into the walls. There were long, light themed touch screens above them.  McCord, on the other hand, believed he didn't have it. At least, McCord thought he didn't  have it.  
  
Perhaps McCord did have it.  
  
He just hadn't heard or seen any reminders.  
  
Anything that jolted him back into the scenery of war.  
  
His counselor would need to be aware that he had no idea what his triggers were.  
  
Nothing left him shook as of this minute.    
  
The hall is dark and foreboding. McCord could hear the sounds of boots traveling through several passage ways and shuffled footsteps. He has excellent hearing. He was lucky that he retained both hearing in both ears given the settings that he was taken into. Going into the field to retrieve fallen Kazels and other-seceeded-from-the-alliance alien species. The war was in space and on planet. He didn't spend a year on one starship under the Kazel's thumb, he spent one month normally. Some years he wasn't in space. The sound of the standard Alliance bootsteps was familiar, they were soft and light not hard and intimidating echoing through the halls. He saw rows of pipes above his head that are exposed. He saw visible rust growing on the pipes as though it hadn't been well kept in years along with spider webs. He could have sworn that there rested a bird nest poking from the sides of the pipes. But the space was limited so they had to be the space rats that made nest in small spaces and populated as fast as rabbits.  The walls, however, looked well kept. With limited view of the scenery, he could see the touch screens had the entire layout of the ship at first glance.  
  
They took some twists and turns until they came to a stop at a octagon door with the Alliance symbol. It is a faded blue image, that has two jet like blades out of the center that is a rounded object. The paint has become dull and lost its color over the years. It used to be a bright shade of blue. Come to think of it, the entire corridor must have been a shade of bright light gray color. O'Ricks entered first. A contrastingly bright, shining light ray shine came from the inside. McCord closed his blindly walking into the room. He is set onto a comfortable, warm surface. A health bed. McCord's eyes slowly started to open again adjusting to the light difference tonal wise. A nurse with antennas, shoulder length black hair, and anime like eyes approached the man handing a device to O'Ricks.  
  
"Understone, we need him to be out," O'Ricks said.  
  
"How out, doctor?" Understone asked, raising her thin eyebrow.  
  
"Enough that he won't move when I fix his neck," O'Ricks said. "May I apply this injector?"  
  
"You may," Understone said. "deactivating cuffs. Don't try a fast one."  
  
"I wouldn't think of it," McCord replied.  
  
Shortly afterwards McCord heard the familiar hiss of a injector enter into the side of his neck.  It was painless. The doctor went numb unable to move but entirely relaxed. He noticed the room was circular, very wide, with numerous beds that had screens above them indicating the health. They were in default mode. It showed a  blank screen.  The mirrors on the wall gave him a excellent vision of the surroundings. He felt cold, metal objects placed along the side of his neck that dug into his skin along his neck line with his neck collar pulled down. Warmth spread from the machine as his neck began to relax.  He saw the injector, a long thin translucent device poking out of a square object in  O'Rick's hands. He put the device away out of the man's vision then took out another injector. He placed it into the side of McCord's neck apologizing as the rest of the work  required more in-depth medical procedure. One that the doctor was familiar to. One that he, himself, had done countless times on the 666 to patients.

His eyes came to a close. Darkness lurked in his vision, felt as though he was falling into oblivion, falling and falling, nothing to save him. The heat was getting stronger and stronger by the passing level until it felt like his shirt was going to be burned off and his skin damage. He flailed his arms reaching out for anything to help him. He was alone. Absolutely alone in the world and there was no one to share it with. He clawed at the void around him hoping to catch onto  a fabric. Dark, illogical fabric that his fingers could pause his fall. His heart was beating quickly against his chest. His neck didn't have pain but the heat was unacceptable. He braced himself closing his eyes praying to himself that the fall would be quick and efficient.  Instead, there was a loud thud. A thud that yanked the doctor to reality as there was no burning sensation. McCord's eyes slowly began to open.

And he was no longer in pain. His vision cleared to see a dark figure above him with an afro  and folded arms. The afro looked awfully like a wig rather than actual hair. McCord turned over onto his side  and placed himself against the wall looking up toward the man. Yet, another Coran. It was odd; why were so many Corans landing in the prison system? It drew a red flag for the doctor. Except the Coran individual had a light gray, prosthetic arm for his---her right arm. The Coran had a masculine like figure with a face that could be mistook for a male. It was her other features that made McCord correct himself mentally referring to his cellmate. McCord noticed that on both sides of the Coran's neck was a colorful tattoo resembling a butterfly with various colors in it. It was quite marvelous to the sore eyes. Coran's were known to have tattoos on their bodies wherever visible to show their character. No one outside the Coran society was entirely sure what it meant to them but it meant something. Some thought it represented their character or pride for being who they were.  
  
"Larry McCord," McCord introduced himself. "so you must be my first cell mate," He held his hand out. "glad to meet you."  
  
"I am Tey'Plass, but you call me Plass," Tey'Plass said, holding her metal hand up in decline.  
  
McCord lowered his hand.  
  
"Ah . . . what does the 'Tey' mean?" McCord asked. "I mean I never bothered to ask my Coran colleagues and it has been bothering me  for not asking. . ."  
  
"I rather not say," Tey'Plass said. "you wouldn't understand."  
  
"Sure I won't," McCord said, then he looked over toward the direction of the bunkbed then back toward the woman.  "Which one is yours?"  
  
"The bottom," Tey'Plass said.  The doctor looked at her oddly.  
  
"What did you do?" McCord asked.  
  
"I did nothing when a crime was committed, I ate the remains of my crewmates to survive, and I may have been coordinating with an enemy just for the sake of survival," she gestured toward her prosthetic. "I kept this as a reminder of my survival," she eyed the human. "you must be the traitor." McCord's hands clenched into  fists.  
  
"War criminal," McCord corrected, feeling anger reach his head once hearing the words coming from his mouth. "I am a war criminal," Tey'Plass raised her slanted eyebrows in surprise.  The doctor repeated again, this time, with acceptance. "I am a war criminal."   This surprised the Coran.  
  
"Then why were you prosecuted as a traitor?" Tey'Plass asked.  
  
"Admiral Kadner is angry that I made him kill our husband," McCord said. "that is the only thing I can accept from him reporting me as a traitor. . . I deserve it," he had a sad sigh. "after everything."  
  
"What makes you a war criminal?" Tey'Plass asked.  
  
"I . . . " McCord started to say. "I . . ." the doctor couldn't finish. It made his chest feel tight, air unable to pass through his throat, his stomach twisting, and uneasyness. He felt sick. "I killed people." Tey'Plass rolled an eye.  
  
"Everyone in this joint killed someone," Tey'Plass said, as the sick feeling vanished. "you are nothing special."  
  
"I killed prisoners," McCord bolted up from where he sat.  "Prisoners of war. I am supposed to heal not kill."  
  
"Doctors kill their patients all the time," Tey'Plass said. "that is nothing different."  
  
"Under their expressed consent," McCord said.  
  
"How did you stand doing  what you did?" Te'Plass asked. "Operating on them? Killing them? Was it slow or was it quick?" McCord shared a painful, bitter smile looking over toward the woman. It was more of a shadow of who he used to be than anything.  
  
"You would be surprised how often I had to apply morphine to finish them off," McCord said.  
  
"You didn't answer my question," Te'Plass asked.  "What made you do what you did instead of surrendering and refusing to do what they asked?" she stared at the man with her slanted eyebrows closed together. "A Alliance officer would have found a way to get out of it."  
  
"Hope,"McCord. "That's what kept me going at first. After so long  .  . ." He briefly closed his eyes, painfully. "If I had attempted to get myself out of there in the cowardly way then they would have gotten another young one and hurt them worse than they did to me," the older man shuddered. "The Kazels. .  I don't know if I can regain the image I once had of them again after this war. Personally? I'm glad that I won't need to serve with one again."  
  
Tey'Plass looked at the man, curiously, tilting her head.      
  
 "How old are you?" Tey'Plass asked.                        
  
"Three hundred sixty-eight," McCord said. "I am getting down to my last numbers."  
  
"Last?" Tey'Plass asked, baffled. "You look like a young man."  
  
The doctor laughed, half heartedly, at her reply.  
  
"Most people live until they are a five hundred sixty," McCord said.  
  
"Yes," Tey'Plass said, then she repeated. "Most."  
  
"Most," McCord said. "If I refuse medical attention when I get a bad chest cold then I can. . well .  . . You don't want to live with a human whose psychic powers will get out of control. You just don't."  
  
"How long does it take?" Tey'Plass asked.  
  
"Not long," McCord replied. "two weeks, a month, tops."  
  
McCord looked about the room to notice that it was pretty well kept and appeared to be luxurious. There were forcefields seen to every doorway to the quarters reminding him of the installed brig on the 666 except the shade of gray lighter aboard that vessel. He saw the walls were not even painted just left a shade of gray. He saw a green and white animal with ears that had fur coming out of them laid above the eyes rather to the sides while resting on the bottom bunk curled into a ball. It reminded McCord of the feline-human population back on Earth that was still in the stages of evolution but were recognized as a sapient roughly century ago. They can walk on their two back legs like a human being. Their evolution was jump started due to the events of the third world war that threatened the entire planet.  There was a red, draped curtain draped at the back covering likely the sink and the toilet.   There is a wide screen television set, curved, on the wall across from the bunk bed. Beside that rested a counter with two heartpadds with access to every book in existence. Tey'Plass stroked the feline's neck gently as it made a peculiar sound. Similar to the sound made in a antique car's engine.  Tey'Plass followed the man's gaze then turned her attention on the man.  
  
"This is my assigned cat,"  Tey'Plass said. "his name is Jamesell."  
  
". . .So that's a cat?" McCord said, squinting at the beast. "that's what the Catospiens used to look like?"  
  
"Yes," Tey'Plass said. "I am surprised someone like you who has been on thousands of planets never met one."  
  
"One thousand nine hundred forty-eight," McCord said. "nothing genuine like this pure cat," he looked toward the woman. "how many Catospiens are there in this facility?"  
  
"Twelve thousand, roughly," Tey'Plass said. "they are guilty of what you expect."  
  
"Burgulary?" McCord said. "I didn't take them for thieves."  
  
"You have been away too long, McCord," Tey'Plass said. "welcome to the modern day prison system."  
  
"Are Behostan's everywhere on this ship?" McCord asked.  
  
"Yes," Tey'Plass said, she sat down onto her bunk with Jamesell in her lap. "your assigned heartpadd is on the table," McCord looked toward the remaining padd on the table. "the rules to this city is already on it. I made sure of it."  
  
"Ah," McCord said. "I see. Anything else I need to know about?"  
  
"If you attempt to gain my attention while worshiping, then you will be dealt accordingly as I dealt with my previous cellmate," McCord stared back at the Coran. Coran's are notorious to use methods to deter noisy makers and halt the disturbance without injuring the other party.  They were very creative. They were clearly a menace to be living alongside, his head nurse once said, absolute menace. "I prefer not to have a repeat over it."  
  
McCord's eyes gazed over toward the heartpadd.

  1. **Do not attempt to assault the security officers by any means possible.**  
_\- You will be sent to the tower for twelve hours.  
-If you take advantage of the security officers, then you will be killed. _
  2. **Do not to make a escape plan.**    
_-You will be sent to the tower for one day.  
-recreational activity privilege will be revoked for 1 week._
  3. **Do not attempt to begin a mutiny.**  
_-You will be sent to the tower for two days.  
\--recreational activity privilege will be revoked for a month._
  4. **Do not attempt to hijack the schedule.**  
_\- You will be sent to the tower for three days.  
-recreational activity privilege  will be revoked for 3 months. _
  5. **Do not attempt to disguise yourself as a warden.**  
_-Any impersonations of a Alliance Official will have you locked up inside the tower for five standard days._  
-recreational activity privilege  will be revoked for 4 months.  
-visitors will not be permitted.
  6. **Do not attempt to end your life.**  
_-You will be sent to the padded tower._  
-You will be out fitted with protectionary gear with the cuffs to keep yourself safe from harming anyone including yourself.  
-You will have a psych evale done to systematically determine your mental state.  
-This will be for the rest of your duration here in this ship until a suitable location can be found that deals with your hospitalization. Preferably a medical based ship.
  7. **Do not attempt to hack into the system of the 2305.**  
_-You will be barred from using a heartpadd._  
-You will be barred from any form of technology given your knowledge to manipulate it.  
-This will be this way until you have served your prison sentence.
  8. **Do not attempt to begin a hostage situation.**  
\- You will be removed from the 2305 to the most secure facility in the known universe.  
-The planet in question will be Behost within the Maximum Tight Secure Prison center near the Jehotian Desert and the field of death.  
\- You will not be allowed to have recreational activities.



  
"Here I thought prison ships had unspoken rules," McCord said. "just eight rules?"  
  
"Eight rules," Tey'Plass said. "The war kicked the spirit out of the fellow in-mates."  
  
"Oh. . ." McCord said.  
  
"But since it has ended, I won't be surprised within the month that someone does something nefarious," Tey'Plass said. "everyone's guard is lowered, security officers are partying, and the systems are entirely open," the doctor appeared to be skeptical of the assumption. "I am appalled by you."  
  
"Are you planning something?" McCord asked.  
  
"No," Tey'Plass said. "I will be released in six months and thirteen days from now.  I shall be on my best behavior. Been serving a twenty year sentence."  
  
The doctor climbed the bunkbed ladder onto the top still holding onto the heart padd.  
  
"Well," McCord said. "at least you still have a life to pursue."


End file.
